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In the summer, the mask seems to be warmer. The way it dapples off the rays of lights crusading through the leaves. Her insides are slightly colder, longing for the wearer to return, to conform into the soft velvet outlining on the inside folds. The bridge where the nostrils meet the lower eye line needs rebuffing, but I haven't the time for such beatifications. Summer isn't the time for such trivial matters, as it is the time of the harvest, the time of Litha. Born into the south lands, I am no stranger to the rites that the citizens gladly participate in. When I moved, nothing prepared me for what was to come, what pleasures awaited me in the fields of honey on these mountain sides. I can remember driving along what seemed like an endless line of dirt, until the first view of the dogwoods came into sight. Such pleasure to see the petals grace their way along the rough road into the village, and an even more grandeur sensation when the small shrine girls ran straight under the tender branches. I could not hear them, nor could I see their faces. The shrine girls were wearing the midsummer masks, made of twigs and small dyed feathers. But I could tell that they were enjoying themselves, chasing each other around the tree. If I can remember correctly, I watched them for quite some time until I continued into the main village. Now, to elaborate some of what the landscape and slight history of the village is, it is told that the midsummer witches of Salem fled from prosecution to these hills. To be at full peace with the Father, and to be blessed endlessly with the fields of honey and blissful sunny days. For many outsiders, this village is deemed cursed, insidious, and neglectful to worldly traditions. Many confuse us with Amish, or Mormons, but we are something grander, something that has a piece in the world. I never understood why people were scared, since we loved all things on the earth, valuing them as precious and fragile. Some people will just never understand, will never take the teachings into their hearts. The celebration is all about honoring the Holly King, as he triumphantly defeats the Oak King to regain power of the solstices. Since the battle is eternal, and since each other them rule time periods of peace and realignment, a small amount of people disapproval of the festivals. The majority, however, view this as a time of meditation, and happiness. As for the battle itself, it is never seen by mortal eyes. Some have claimed to have felt a strong force deep within the twisting woods outlining the village, but it is claimed to be purely cosmic. I for one, seem to feel much more anxious when the battle is happening. It usually happens around the time when all of the children are gathering the twigs and berries for feeding the hillside bonfires. When the flute players are tuning their wooden instruments in the small strawberry patches east of the market. Or, that is when the elders say it happens. Back to when I first arrived here, I felt out of place, and strange. I wore my Sunday mask just like everyone else, yet mine seemed more different, and awkward. Moving from place to place, in a constant silence, it was tough. But, something always made me excited, and that was when I would turn around and see some of the cloaked elders looking at me. They were always looking at me, when I would walk through the woods to the old mill, or when I was harvesting some of the honey from the circle, their eyes never ceased to stop looking. I wasn't the only one either, they watched a few other people, intently glazed them over. What this meant, I haven't the slightest idea, but whenever the elders decided to pay attention to something, we all knew it was cosmically important. Nonetheless, I still felt alone, even in such a glued community. My house was on a grassy hillside near the Hall of Litha, underneath the towering oak trees near the dark forests. Living out here was double edged sword, since it was quiet and beautiful, yet eerie and lonely. Feeling as if someone is watching you through your window is the worst when you are trying to sleep with soft dreams. Not much has happened up to this moment. No, in this moment, the bonfires are beginning to ignite along the honey farms, the sweet smell of maple and petals mixing with burning flames. People began to throw the small twined totems into the fire, and the flutes began to chime throughout the hills. When I said the elders were watching me, I never knew why until this moment. I do believe I was about to throw my own cedar totem when one of them came behind me and lightly tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around to face them, I could not see their face under the dark shadowed cloak. The star in the night sky shined with such radiance, it made the cloak seem unsettling at that moment. Day was dying, and the real festivities were about to begin. Unknowing to what the plan was, I breathed heavily into my lush lion mask. It kept me safe, it made me feel welcomed. My own cloak was sticking to my skin in the heat, and my small hood was down at my shoulder to show respect for the presence of the elders at my bay. Leading me down a small hill, we came into one of the honey circles. Only, instead of their just being me, there was about three other people surrounded by the other elders, standing in complete silence. My heart started back into a rushed clambering, feeding my rushed veins. Taking a spot in the middle of the group, one of the more important elders came into the moonlight. We had hardly any vision, no candles, no lights, with the exception of moonlight. Beaming with glory, I basked in it's aura, wanting to know what wonders would possibly lie beyond. But now was not the time to think of such things, now was the time to listen to the elders. Thinking about what would happen if I did end up saying something, he raised his ancient hand into the wispy air, and I held my breathe. "Brothers and sisters, we have gathered you four for a purpose on this warm Litha night," he began, his dark mask shining in the dark, "Since we have you here, you are propelled into the veil tonight." My head begins to line with fuzz, because I know what he wants us for. I think at this point, we all know what we are in for. "You will be the participates for the Aeterna Lux tradition. This only happens ever cosmic spell, and when it does, it marks a good harvest for the rest of the year." he finishes, then we are dismissed to the honey huts to prepare for the ceremony. I never thought I would get chosen for something like this. This, this is all I could ever wish for coming into this village. My skin is tingling, and I feel a idiosyncrasy in the air. After this night, I feel that things will be much different for me here. I feel like the light will align perfectly on my head, crowning me in eternal iridescence. The robes before are pure white, no other color, no pattern adorns it. Perfectly pure, as must the apostles be for the ritual. Gently undressing from my thick festival cloak, and removing the mask from my hair, the air suddenly smells much better. I look around quickly while I remove my under garments, as I must be completely bare under the cloak. I don't want anyone seeing me raw before the ritual, it would be disgraceful to the Holly King. When the cloak is draped over my shoulders, I find my last present sitting on a small table in the corner. A white mask, shaped in the face of a fox. This is when I know my role in the ceremony, I am the fox. I am submissive, quiet, and forever solemn. I wonder to myself who the dragon will be, and the cat. All play equally important parts, so this is nothing more than a grace upon the already blooming garden of hope. Praying softly before I leave the tent, I wish upon my soul a fair wielded pressure when I am surrendered at the ceremony. I hope I do not bleed too much, as it would possible stain the robes. Exiting the hut, I see the elders standing near the hill, with the others in white cloaks, and the masks keeping guard over weary eyes. It was cinematic, seeing their fabrics flowing in the breeze of the honey wind, the solemn tree behind them casting a vigil upon the grassy landscape. To me, I took this as a sign of understanding and protection from the Father himself. Joining the group, we begin the short walk to the main bonfire. Arriving at the ceremony, I marvel at the set up. The child of the hills dance around the blazing bonfire, singing soft lullabies to Litha while tossing berries into the fire. The woman and men of the village surround the fire like a protective ring, waiting for the elders reaction to confirm that the ritual would be starting soon. As the elders hands rise, the children's dance motions become havoc, relentlessness. The lullabies turn into rants, rants again the filth of the world. A mesmerizing sound beckons them to return to their mothers and fathers, and the elders, all twelve of them, move to the center of view. "Sisters, friends, and children, we gather to commence a ritual as ancient and noble as the creatures that roam the forests, and we say on this night thank you to the Lords that brought us upon on this land of milk and honey. We govern the souls tonight, all the souls tonight, into the crisp night air, for the Lords to harvest and gain energy upon. They have blessed us, and they will continue to bless us forevermore. May we gather the loyal ones, gather your own self respect, for tonight some will lose theirs." he begins, with nothing but a whisper to hang onto. A drum in the distance begins to hammer a soft sound into the sky, and the elders raise their hands to us, the cat, the fox, and the dragon. We walk forward, not to fast, nor to slow, but just at the right pace to be in time for the first part to being to happen. Seemingly, unbeknownst to us, a small girl with a jagged crown walks out of the darkness. A small line of thick, red blood runs down the side of her face, and drips into the corner of her lip. She seemingly skips toward us, then politely lowers her bleeding head down in respect of the elders. "The child of purity, the one born nearly eight years ago for this one purpose. She has awaited this day, for this day is her day to become a flower in the garden of the goat. But all flowers must first be checked, be checked to make sure they are pure enough for the Fathers garden." the first elder pauses only to walk toward the small girl. She smiles at him, with her hands behind her back. She seems so pure already, I haven't the slightest idea why they would need to even check her for. The elder holds out his arms to the girls, and she gladly embraces him. He raises her into his grip, hold he firm, so they were know face to face. Silently, he removes his mask, and it falls to the ground, the bleeding yet smiling girl still in his arms. Part of me gets strangely uncomfortable, since I do not remember this part of the ritual, but then again, this only happens once ever one hundred years almost. The elder holding the girl, his face still unseen due to his small cloak, leans toward her blood lined face, and soon her small gentle face is also hidden behind the hood. But it's the faintest sound, the slimy and sticky sound of a tongue smacking something soft. When he leans his head back, her face is moist, and some of the blood is smeared with saliva across her cheeks. "The child is pure. She is tasteful and pure." he announces to the people of his congregation. A small cheer is chanted throughout the crowd, but all I can feel is disgust. How could a respectful elder do that to a small child, something precious and created by the Lords of old. I begin to feel more and more discomfort as the ritual continues. "Tonight, when the child is released to the cosmic stars to become part of the Fathers garden, one of the small children will replace her for the next ceremony, which in fact will happen the very next solstice, since the honey is beginning to wither. She will be washed in the blood of this little lamb, for the Lords demand her soul very soon." When he finished, the little girl came walking over to us once more. Her glass like face shimmered in the fire, the thick lines of blood and saliva coating her eye lids and cheeks. But she never quit her strange smiling, and she seemed very calm and... at peace. "Now, the fox, the cat, and the dragon will send her soul into the garden." The elder near the back then approached us with a small black box. When he stood near us and opened the box, three small curved knives laid next to each other on some black velvet fabric. The cat and the dragon were the first ones to retrieve their daggers, while I hesitated. Are they asking me to sacrifice this little girl? For the longest time living here, this community seemed at peace with nature, and seemed happy to be in each others company and watchful guidance. Then again, I could tell the elders getting impatience with me, so I quickly retrieved the knife, and returned to my spot in front of the bonfire. "Now, siphon her soul for the Lords. May them taste her purity." at that, the drums starting back, and soon the children were singing their hushed lullabies once more. The elder watched intently as the dragon was the first to step up, and without a hint of resistance, plunged his knife into her soft belly. As instantly as this happened, the look of shock and pain on her face was real, as if she didn't know this would happen. The screaming began when she felt the wet coating of her own blood against her damaged skin. He removed the knife, and she fell to the ground, sobbing in agony. The cat was the next one, leaning down and sticking his knife directly above the first wound, and rolled the girl on her back. It was hard, listening to her terrified screams. They sounded more like shock than pain, and the cat wasn't gentle either. The pulled the knife down, connecting it with the already inflicted wound. This caused a small fleshy crevasse of skin and blood to appear under her ripped white dress. One of the elders saw the dress as a object of annoyance, and had it ripped from her. It was then my turn, and I got on my knees, staring down at the pitiful naked girl, the jagged crown cutting deeper into her head. I didn't want her to suffer anymore, I wanted her to be free of this pain. So I took my knife, looking at her through the small holes in my mask, looking her eyes, which were searching for mine in pain. Lifting it just above her neck, I shoved it straight down into her jugular, and her eyes widened, like a small deer that just got shot. Instantaneously, sticky red warmth spewed from her mouth, and soon her small body went cold and limp. "Well done fox, you learned to deliver the third and proper blow well for her soul to be transferred." one of the elders said quietly. I didn't know what he meant at first, but at a second glance, I saw that the wounds formed the mark of Litha. I just aimed for the throat to put her out of her misery, I never wanted to do it properly... A small group of men then collected the dead girl and, just like a candy wrapper, threw her into the fire like a rag doll. People begin to chime with laughter as the air filled with the smell of flesh and burning hair. We were gathered up and returned to the honey huts where we changed into our normal robes, leaving the white ones in the closet of each of the huts, ready for the next solstice, which would be soon. I dread it for the next girl, thinking of some sort of way to prevent it from happening. The question and solution that came into my head was vile, but in retrospect, it seemed to be the only decent way to prevent the next girl from suffering the same fate. Exiting the hut, I approached the first elder I saw, and bowed in respect before asking the next question, "Elder, if the Lords permit, may I ask which girl is the next in line for the solstice flower?" I politely hummed. "She is the one with the strongest calling, the one with the long dark hair, some call her Emmy. I do believe she is the one with the lilac flower crown right by the bonfire." He points his finger at a black haired beauty, no young than the girl just killed for the Lords. I bow my head, and head towards the fire. There is no easy way this will be done, but it must be to protect her from the fate the other girl just suffered. She doesn't even know that this is going to happen to her, I have to do everything I can to save her from the garden. Approaching her, she seems to notice me from the ritual, and smiles sweetly at my while hugging my legs. I am easily taller than her by quite a few feet, her only being around seven years of age. I tap her shoulder, and motion for her to follow me to the high hill with the tree. She eagerly follows me. I try to hide the tear falling down from the bottom of my mask. When we arrive, I sit softly down on the grassy landscape, and she skips for a few minutes in the tall flowers. The air is a sickly sweet scent of fire and berries, and the sky is perfectly clear, so the stars poke holes into oblivion. This girl, this soft little girl, it pure, the purest in the village. That is why she is a flower to be added to the Lords garden, but she doesn't know the pain and humiliation, the sheer feeling of betrayal, she will have to feel just to get there. So I motion for her to take a sit next to me. She happily skips over to me, tucking her small white dress underneath her legs, and sits next to me. She smells of the earth, and her eyes sparkle with green intensity. The thoughts in my mind are telling me this right, this is the right thing to do. This girl, this flower, is perfect for the Lords garden. But, like any other flower, it can always be deflowered, and made impure. I easily overpower her, and clasp my hand over her tiny, puffy lips. My hands already feel wet from the new stream of tears pouring from her face. Using my free hand, I sneak it underneath her white dress, and caress her tight thighs. She in pain, my weight must be hurting her, but nothing matters. She must be defiled. Without exception, death will come to each and every one of us. She is sobbing, as well as I am, but I rub my privates across her stomach, making sure to touch every part of her pure body. My member is throbbing, pulsating, not attached to my mind. It wants to enter, it wants to have her for itself. The devils of this earth will rattle on our very coffins with cloven hooves. I give her sloppy, wet kisses, and her small eyes are wide and frightened. Take my index finger, I slip it into her tight, underdeveloped sex, massaging the area with intensity. She begins to calm, but only slightly. The body we pamper will become a city of corruption, a horror onto this earth. My penis is fully erect, the foreskin looks iridescent in the moonlight. I remove my mask, laying it on the ground. I stroke her hair, and she instantly stops crying. Her mouth opens slightly, and I sense something behind us. Our own mothers could not bear to look upon it. The grunt of an animal makes me jump nearly out of my skin. I feel a large hoof drill into my lower back, pushing me closer to the small girl on the ground. I turn my head enough to see a beast. One of the possessed beasts of the woods. Its lower half is completely covered in hair, it upper has a more masculine look. Great horns protrude from its literal goat like head. I feel cold as it roars into the night sky. But if we are saved our bodies will rise again, free and glorious when Christ comes. Taking its teeth, it rips off my robes, revealing my bare body. I grunt slightly as it begins to mount me, warmth spreading into my anal cavity. His weight causes my to literally crush the small, terrified girl underneath me. Her crying has stopped, she seems to view this as a sign from the Lords. Something magically is happening right now, or so she thinks in her mind. But if we lose our battle with temptation and choose to ride upon the goat, we know what our agony will be. Everything is symmetrical, everything is completely sublime. Ignoring the vigil sent by the Lords, I came to finish what I started. I tear into her, and a small coating around my glands tells me I broke her hymen. She cries out in agony, as do I when I feel the immense pressure in my lower back, and know he has enter me as well. Forever more we shall be washed in the burning rivers of the dead. '' I'm in tears, because I feel him breaking the anal lining, the wet stream of blood dripping down my legs. But I never stopped on the girl, I grabbed her hair, mainly because I was too in pain, but I grabbed her hair, the intensity growing in the motion. She was bleeding as well, and much heaver than me. ''Forever more the stench of hell and the rotting flesh of the damned will fill our nostrils. I was close, and I could tell the beast was as well. Looking back, I could see his furry, slimy penis penetration me. It was growing harder, stronger, more heated. His hooves grabbed on to my abdominals for better support and pressure. I was so close... I could feel my mind blanking, I could feel my thighs tightening. I wasn't even looking at the girl anymore, for I think she passed out in pain. Forever more our ears will resound with the screams of the tormented. In one instant, I grunt loudly, this time crying in immense pain, as I release the filth inside her flower. It is done, but that doesn't mean the Lords beast is, as he pulls straight in the air, still continuously pumping inside and out of me. Grabbing my lower thighs with his hooves, nothing prepared me for this level of pain. The Lords were angry with my actions, and this was my punishment. So be it, I will take it with full acceptance. Forever more... With one finally roar, the beast gives one last, and might I add excruciating thrust into me, and he pulls out dripping. Pushing my head into the sweet smelling ground, he licks my face, and dangerously bites the lower lobe of my ear. Tears are running down my face as I sob continuously. I can feel the dangling skin of my ripped rectum exploding on the grass, and my vision becomes blurred. With the beast still licking my face, all light fades from my mind, and I collapse into an evanescent darkness. When I awake, I am in my own bed. A sharp, almost white blinding pain extends from my lower half, and when I try to stand up, my legs lock up and cramp. So, with my eyes squinted in pain, I look out of the window, wishing for it to be morning. Luckily it is, but there is also something else. Something horribly wrong. The usual green hills are dead with brown dried grass, and many of the huts are blazing with fire. I begin to scream when I see many of the citizens bodies ripped everywhere across the landscape. And I am still screaming when I see the beast, roaring a dominate roar, standing on the large hill. The small girl with black hair is laughing, holding his massive hoof in one hand, and a handful of flowers in the other. The sun is shining on his dark fur as they skip toward me.